Meet The Dursleys
by feverfudges
Summary: When Draco struggles with the idea of being without Harry for a few weeks, he uses his Slytherin cunning to find himself on the doorstep of 4 Privet Drive, despite Harry's endless orders to stay away.


**Disclaimer: I don't think I really need to mention this but, of course, I don't own Harry Potter. I'm not the wonderful J.K. Rowling, just an overly-obsessed fan with an undying love for Drarry.**

**Note: Rated M for _some_ coarse language.**

* * *

Draco stepped off the Knight Bus, clutching the old, tattered envelope in his slender grasp. As soon as his trailing foot touched the pavement, the vehicle had pulled abruptly away from the curb and hurriedly off into the night, sending his robes rattling around his body with a violet backlash of wind. He glanced down at the basic handwriting looped across the envelope:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard Under The Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

He had found it in a box buried at the bottom of Harry's trunk, along with other sentimentalities he desired to keep close to him at all times. Harry having denied Draco of visiting him until he had officially moved out of the Dursley's, which happened to be in a few days time, the Slytherin in him snatched it quickly, figuring this would be the only way to see his... his what exactly? Lover? _Boyfriend? _Whatever Harry wanted to be to him, he knew he couldn't wait that long to see him again. Call him clingy – although Draco flinched at the mere thought of being openly affectionate and dependant upon anyone, let alone Harry Potter – but he had barely been able to manage so far without being admitted to a mental health ward in St. Mungo's. The seperation was driving him insane.

It took Draco the best part of an hour, a couple of frustrated breakdowns, and the hexing of someone's poor excuse of a flower bed to find his way around the Muggle neighbourhood. When he finally reached _4 Privet Drive _he was calm and composed, as if he hadn't just been sitting on a curb, casting _Tarantallegra _on hopeless ants as they scuttered past him. He took the golden, skinny knocker in his hand and tapped it harshly against the door, wincing at the unpleasantly cheap noise it made.

It hadn't occurred to him until that moment that maybe Harry no longer lived here. Yet, as the moments grew longer and the silence remained unbroken, Draco's nerves started to quake. That was, until, he saw the something move. Peering out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of sparkling emeralds staring back at him through a gap in the curtain. The connection was made but within moments it was broken again, and the eyes disappeared behind the tedious, doily-like material. Draco smirked at Harry's overly cautious technique.

His smug look faltered slightly as the front door flew open. Though, within moments, he had regained his confidence façade.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Harry whispered; hissed. "Go home, Draco."

The expression on his face was one of anger but that didn't put Draco off in the slightest. He had come all this way for Harry, and he wasn't going to leave. Not just yet, or, maybe not at all.

"Now, now, Potter, didn't these Muggles teach you manners? I've only just arrived, and I doubt they'd want you to leave me out in the cold," he drawled, looking rather smug at his retort.

"Malfo-"

Ignoring Harry's warning, he barged past and cut him off, "Aren't you going to give me a tour?" he asked. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked at the brunette, barely giving him enough time to open his mouth before he started speaking again, "Guess I'll just have to do it myself, then."

With that, he burled into the living-room, which happened to be sitting in darkness. As was the kitchen. And the hall, and the top landing now that he thought about it. It was hard to make out much other than the shapes of the furniture and the squares protruding out of the walls (which he didn't realise until much later were photographs, but they were unlike any he'd seen before: they didn't move), hence why he couldn't make out Harry until the black silhouette was too close to escape from.

"Malfoy, you can't be here! They- my family will be back any moment, now please," he let out a frustrated sigh, "just go."

Harry ground his teeth together as he tried to remain calm but Draco could see right through him. It was just like old times. He smirked. "Make me, Potter," he spat as he threw himself backwards onto the couch.

As he lounged across the furniture Harry was momentarily reminded of the time Ron and himself snuck into the Slytherin common room to spy on Draco, but that thought washed over him quickly and his rage returned, stronger. He clenched his fists as he watched Draco pick up a photograph of Petunia, Vernon and Dudley from the coffee table and examine it, trying to restrain himself. He shouldn't be here; he _warned_ him not to come. Then again, this _was_ Draco Malfoy and he was never known to obey orders.

"Why aren't you in any of these? Surely your family should be worshipping the ground you walk on; have your portrait on every wall, being the Savior an' all," Draco sneered, a hint of real curiosity and playfulness dancing in his words, but, despite his attempt at dry humour, this only seemed to anger Harry more. In fact, that was the breaking point Draco would once have revelled in igniting – but not now.

Something in Harry snapped.

Before Draco could considering brushing his statement under the rug with another, less harsh, implication, he felt a heavy pressure on his lap and a prick in his neck. Harry's emerald eyes – the subject of his fascination for many years – weren't shining with wonder and excitement like he was used to, but were swirling with a dark, smoky fury that paled Draco's complexion to a sickly white. The tip of his wand was pressed firmly against his jugular and he was straddling the blonde, clutching at his robes with his free hand. Through Harry's fit of rage, neither boy noticed the click of an opening door.

"Fuck, Malfoy, I never asked you to come here and nose around. I'll be out of here in a few days – couldn't you have _fucking _waited? Now get out of here," he hissed in a low, threatening tone.

"What is your problem? I came to fucking _see_ you, sorry for being such an inconvenience to your life, Potter," he retorted. Draco tried to conceal the hurt shaking his voice but it was a lost cause. Harry, usually oblivious to such things, caught on. His expression softened but his voice still remained stern, though in more of a motherly way.

"That's not what I meant, Draco, and you know it, but you have to g-"

"Who are you talking to, boy? You better not have invited your- your _freaks_ into my house!" A loud, low voice bellowed and the lights turned on, revealing a fuming, overweight man and two faces peering out from behind his shoulder, all standing in the doorway.

As soon as Vernon noticed Draco, he turned red in the face; as soon as he noticed the wand pointing into his neck, his lips started to twitch in agitation; as soon as he realised the slightly provocative position the two boys were in, he broke.

"I will _NOT_ have this filth under my roof! Get out, get him out!" Vernon started to walk towards the two boys, waggling his chubby stub in an aggressive manner as if to scare the pair of them. Harry jumped off Draco's lap looking slightly ashamed and peaky, but Draco on the other hand was having none of it. He had grown up under the heat of the Cruciatius Curse; a little threat from a nobody Muggle would have no effect on him.

"I do believe this was a private conversation," Draco drawled, standing up gracefully and straightening his posture. His eyes burned into Vernon making him feel heated and enraging him further as he smirked the famous Malfoy smirk.

Vernon struggled with remaining composed, flushing bright red as he shouted "I will not have any more of you people in my house." He then turned to glare at Harry, "If I had it my way, I never would have ta-"

"Taken me in, in the first place. Yeah, I know," Harry finished for him, his anger now gone as he sighed in discontent.

"People like me?" Draco asked, blatently ignoring the fact that Harry had obviously heard that speech often enough to memorise the words to come – how could they be so rude to him? He saved the world, for both Wizarding and Non-Magical folk. He could never understand Muggles and their ungrateful attitudes. He took a step forward, challenging Vernon. "Do you mean wizards? Or," he paused, his smirking growing wider and more fierce than Harry had ever seen before, "_gays?_"

This, just as Draco had planned, spurred Harry's uncle into a messy rampage. He lunged forward and grabbed him by the neck of his finely tailored robes, and Draco winced at the sight of the man's grubby hands on his expensive clothing and tried to wriggle free in a growing fury. Harry watched in awe and anger as the two men faced each other down. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again the scene had changed. Vernon, who was once dominating Draco and loving every minute of it, was now frozen with fear, while Draco revelled in having the upper hand, his wand gently caressing down Vernon's cheek in the most sinister way possible. He reminded Harry so much of Lucius in that moment, and he knew that he should have been revolted by it, but something about his dark arrogance made Draco all the more attractive to him. Petunia and Dudley finally spoke up from behind their scowls; Petunia screeched in fear for Vernon and Dudley started up a ruckus.

"Get that stupid stick away from him!" he spat, his inner bully showing. That was no match for Draco, however, as he was extremely well-trained in the art of ignorance. Dudley lunged forward with the intention to swat the wand out of his hand but he never managed to reach Draco before a shot of bright light flashed and clipped the overweight boy's arm.

Petunia screamed out and almost fainted. Vernon, now free from the subtle pressure of Draco's wand, ran to his wife's side to steady her before she keeled over. Dudley, on the other hand, was screaming out for his mum and dad to 'make it stop' as his feet danced and flailed around in time with Harry's breathy giggles. Draco turned to look at Harry and grinned, receiving an equally as wide smile in return. Their moment was soon broken by the screaming of Dudley again.

"GET HIM TO TAKE IT OFF OF ME, YOU FUCKING QUEER!"

Draco whipped around and shot Dudley a death glare. He flicked his wrist violently and ended the wordless spell with another. Silence fell upon the room as Draco slowly, stealthily inched towards the boy. He shut out all of the others – Vernon, Petunia, Harry – and focused solely on the barbarian in front of him, his rage growing larger and larger, supplying the atmosphere with tension and fear like it had never seen before with every slow, antagonising footstep.

"How dare you," he sneered, closing in on the chubby, shaking boy in front of him, "How dare you call him that! Do you have any idea what he's done? He saved us. You, me, everyone, from the clutches of the most horrific Dark Lord the world has ever seen. You would be _dead,_" he spat, "if it weren't for him. Show some respect." Draco straightened his posture. He then directed his words to the whole family, not just the cowering son. "Next time you even _think_ of saying something cruel to or about Harry, or question who he chooses to _fuck, _just question this: how do you think he conquered the Dark Lord? How do you think he destroyed him, and why do you think he wouldn't do the same to you Muggle _scum _once he's had enough?" His voice was cold and threatening, and the Dursley's looked between him and Harry in fear.

In all honesty, they hadn't even thought about how he had conquered over Voldemort, but as it dawned on them all colour drained from their faces. _He killed him._ Of course, they didn't know that Voldemort's demise was the cause of a rebounded Killing Curse and not one that Harry himself had cast, but they didn't need to know that (and they wouldn't understand it even if they did).

There was a tense few seconds before Vernon found the courage to speak, trying to remain proud and blunt and terrifying all at the same time, but there was a distinct waver in his voice.

"Get out of my house."

"Don't worry, I was just leaving," Draco, still pissed off, strutted past the quivering Dudley, the still-in-shock Petunia, and the bubbling-with-fearful-rage Vernon, and left the front door wide open in his wake.

* * *

He continued his quick pace for quite some time and walked around in circles in the Muggle neighbourhood until his legs were close to giving way underneath him. Collapsed onto the curb, he had his head hung in his hands.

"Draco?" Draco's gaze shot up to find Harry standing in front of him, his shaggy, out of control hair sticking to his red-tinted face. "I've been looking for you for ages-"

"Why aren't you angry?" he asked as he studied the raven-haired boy's face. He looked calm, too calm after a confrontation like that – especially with his own flesh and blood – he should've been angry for having them act out like that. Furious, even, yet it was Draco who was angry – not him. "Didn't you hear what that oaf said to you?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm used to it."

"And you just let them away with treating you like that? Why?" he shouted. Anger and pity and rage and hurt dominated his words all at once.

Looking up as he half-spoke half-bellowed, he watched Harry sit down beside him on the curb, nuzzling in closer so that the sides of their bodies were flush against one another. Oddly, this had quite the soothing effect on Draco. He felt like his feelings were running out through the side of him that was touching Harry, and into Harry himself: like he was willingly letting Draco unload all his anger into him.

"Because I actually enjoy being reminded that I'm not just 'The Boy-Who-Lived', but just 'Harry'."

Draco huffed a weak, wry laugh through his nose, "Is that why I appeal to you so much? Because I treat you like a stupid, run-of-the-mill Gryffindor?" Harry nodded.

"You remind me that I'm still a normal kid, despite not having the most normal childhood. You make me feel special in the most subordinate way. You like me for _me_ and not for my fame or my insane good looks," Harry smirked – a bad habit he had picked up from Draco – at his attempt at calming the crackling tension in the air.

"I suggest you take a look at your hair first before commenting on your looks," Draco smirked back.

Harry playfully nudged into Draco's shoulder with his own and the two laughed lightly together. They both looked up and their eyes met. Draco's anger had subsided and had been overpowered by the soft expression seen on his features, the same soft expression that was causing Harry's stomach to flip more than any Wronski Feint could ever induce. The blonde lifted his slender fingers to rest under the dark-haired wizard's chin, pulling him in closer until their lips were almost touching.

Harry's warm breath ghosted over Draco's chilled lips, sending a pleasurable shiver down the nape of his neck, and just as he thought he was going to be kissed, he heard and felt a husky voice vibrate through the remaining space between them...

"Do you have any idea what I've done?" He gulped, unaware of where Harry was going with this, and feeling a significant swelling in his trousers at the dominating confidence he spoke with. "I _saved_ you." There was a clear amount of amusement in his words which killed all arousal from before. Harry was mocking him. Draco frowned, trying to hide the smirk which threatened to break out on his face.

"Shut it, Potter, you're ruining the moment," Draco drawled but kept the space between them – or lack of – constant.

"Moment? I didn't know Malfoy's had momen-"

He was cut off by a pair of soft, pliable lips, flushed pink with the chill in the air, capturing his own. The feeling of crashing lips and vibrating, throaty moans and hands roaming were like oxygen to near-asphyxiated men. They threw themselves into the kiss, indulging in the comfort, heat and passion of it all. It wasn't until now that Harry realised how foolish he had been to keep Draco away for so long; he need him, _this_, and wouldn't allow himself to let anyone stand in the way ever again. Especially the stupid Dursley's. And, even once the rest of the Wizarding World caught wind of their relationship, not even Rita Skeeter and her redundant drivel could drive Harry away. He'd had his taste of perfection and now he wasn't willing to let it go.

* * *

**Hey! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this. It started off as a prompt sent to me by someone on Tumblr, and I decided to edit a few bits of it since then and post it up here for you guys.  
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**Please, please, _please, _review! **

**I'd love to hear what you thought of this / if you enjoyed it / things that I could work on in my writing.  
**

**Again, thank you so much, and don't be afraid to approach me with any other oneshot ideas. I'd LOVE it if you did! **


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